Chapter 10: Clearwater

Joe

When we exited the terminal of the airport in Missoula I saw the Jorgensens immediately. I found myself in her father’s bear hug almost immediately while Lori and her mother tried to squeeze each other to death. Then it was out to the truck. Lori and her mother sat in the rear of the crew cabin and I got to sit on the passenger seat up front. Her father eyed me for a while before he spoke up.

“Lori tells us you shot the pervert who tried to force her back into those movies?”

“I shot him because he was going for his own gun. He was looking at a life sentence and panicked.”

That was true. With the gun found on him, the guys from the NYPD could pin an unsolved murder on the late Mr. Booker. I was even earmarked for a citation.

Booker’s involuntary partner, Pointer, was also looking at hard time up in New York. A search of his apartment and studio had yielded evidence enough to indict him for two counts of aiding and abetting to statutory rape. It would seem that the late Mr. Booker did not take those pesky age limits too seriously, and he had Pointer “audition” two 17 year-old girls from his stable of underage hookers. My empathy for the whiny Mr. Pointer was very limited. I don’t mind a respectable smut producer. Hell, porn helped me tide over the lack of a sex life with Judy. However, I draw the line where minors are involved. I was torn from my musings by Lori’s father.

“Sheriff Cramer wants to meet you. She said something about wanting to kiss you.”

“She seems like an okay person.”

“Oh, she is. Especially when you consider whom she replaced. That asshole Callahan was behind just about every shady business in the county. When Cramer announced her candidacy against him he tried to rig the election but he made the mistake of trying to get DA McAdam into the conspiracy. McAdam listened to him, then shut off the tape recorder under his desk and had him arrested by the bailiff. In the end Cramer ran unopposed and Callahan had to learn how to make license plates.

“Good for the DA,” I opined. “He’s a good man?”

“Yeah. His father was Justice McAdam, and he’s a chip off the old block. Doesn’t have it easy these days, not with his wife fighting cancer and his daughter boozing around Los Angeles.”

“Is it still that bad with Kylie?” Lori asked from the backseat.

“Rumors say she’s spending more time bailing out her current squeeze than she spends on singin’. You know that Cliff is back? He’s a deputy now, earning money for law school. He’s still taking it hard.”

Lori explained things to me. “Kylie won that ‘Superstar!’ casting show three years ago, and Cliff had been her boyfriend since sophomore year in high school. When she won that thing she went crazy. Never called home anymore, never even gave poor Cliff a warning. She just moved in with her producer.”

Something clicked in my head. “Wasn’t she the one who stepped from the limo showing her bare...” I stopped, not sure whether this was the appropriate language in front of my future parents-in-law.

“We call it ‘crotch’ too,” Jorgensen chuckled, then turned sober. “Boy, that was bad for the McAdams! People say the stress caused the cancer in Mabel McAdam. Nobody can know that of course, but she’s been a broken woman, that’s for sure.”

“Kinda like you had to feel when I made my porn debut, huh?” Lori asked self-consciously.

“You could say that,” her mother nodded. “It was bad, yes, and worse when you killed that man. You turned your life around though while Kylie seems to get worse.”

Talk then shifted to other topics and people, and I zoned out for a bit watching the scenery instead. There are still a few nice spots in Maryland scenery-wise, but Montana is something else! Soon we were off the main highway and driving towards the mountains. In all, we drove a little over an hour before we reached the sleepy little town of Clearwater, Pop. 8214.

Main Street was lined by maple trees, almost like one of those towns from 1950s’ movies. Lori was hugging me from behind and gave me a running byline to the things I saw: the motel (two-star), the one-room movie house, the diner, and other sightseeing highlights such as Clearwater High School. It was hard for me to understand what life had to be like for a young woman growing up in a small town like this.

Once out of town again, Jorgensen took a small dirt road and after a mile we arrived at their farm. The house looked to have been built sometime in the ‘50s, like most of the town. The ground floor was masonry, but the second floor was logs. It looked like a postcard before the backdrop of the mountains.

“That’s one nice place you have here,” I commented.

“Yep, my father and my uncle built it back in ‘57, right after my dad came back from Korea. It kinda grows on you.”

We climbed out of the truck and were greeted by a younger clone of Bill Jorgensen, Lori’s brother Eric. At his side was a tall young woman of perhaps twenty or twenty-two years, with her flaxen hair in a long pony tail, Eric’s girlfriend Maxine. While I shook Maxine’s hand, Lori disappeared in her younger brother’s embrace. Then it was my turn. I consider myself tall at 6’3”, but Eric is taller by two inches and has at least thirty pounds on me. Anyway, I came out of the bear hug still breathing which was good enough.

“Man, you really gave us Lori back,” he exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Lori and Maxine’s greeting was a bit awkward, and I could guess the reason. Lori was the poster girl for the term ‘fallen woman’ in that small community, and Maxine had probably grown up with stories of Lori as an example for what happened if a girl strayed from the path. Lori’s smirk confirmed my suspicion.

“Martin called an hour ago. He’ll be here for supper,” Eric announced. Martin was the youngest Jorgensen sibling.

Lori smiled at her brother. “That’s great! Is he still with Beth?”

I had no idea who Beth is or was, and there was no need either.

“Naw, they split up eight weeks ago. She kept naggin’ about him staying in Missoula on the weekends, and it came to a head when she was seen kissin’ and gropin’ with a guy from Templeton.”

“Poor Martin!” Lori exclaimed. “How is he coping?”

Eric grinned. “There’s that girl. Her name’s Kathleen. She’s at Missoula too, and she’s been havin’ the hots for li’l Martin. As soon as she heard he was solo she pounced. Haven’t met her yet, but Martin promised to bring her along.”

°°°

Indeed, “li’l Martin” showed up for supper, all six foot five of him. He had a cute redhead permanently attached to his left arm who answered to the name Kathleen when she was not looking at Martin starry-eyed. Meeting Lori she blushed a little – a reaction that Lori was getting a lot – but she was friendly enough and even gave up Martin’s arm for a fraction of a second to hug his sister in greeting.

Martin was a Chemistry major at Missoula State College, but he and Kathleen had met in a History class. She majored in PhysEd with a minor in health education. They both planned to be teachers. It also transpired that Kathleen was heavily into a martial arts discipline, Ju-Jitsu. Of course, with Lori’s background, the two young women discovered common ground.

After supper, we all sat on the deck watching the sun set over the mountains. There was a lot to discuss. Lori’s parents wanted to know more about me, and I learned a few things about her family. We also set a tentative date in September for our wedding in Clearwater. It would be just the families. I would have to arrange for my kids to be present, but I did not expect problems from Judy. Ruth would come as would my parents, bringing the total headcount from my side to five.

We also agreed to a civil ceremony. Lori was not eager to get married in the church and in front of the entire town. Her father said he could get the judge to do it. What he did not say but probably thought was that a small wedding for his only daughter would save him a buck or two.

It became nippy once the sun was down, and we adjourned to the living room. We explained a bit about our future plans, and Eric grinned at his sister.

“You know, Lori, I’ve got quite an imagination, but the thought of you doin’ carpentry is hard to see.”

“Cabinet making,” Lori answered archly. “Upholstering, too. Who knows, maybe I’ll snatch a job at a museum?”

“You’ll go to college?” Martin asked with interest.

“Art history, yes. I need to know more about real antiques. But I’ll be just as happy fixing and selling junk. It’s so much fun, and you meet great people.”

“I guess anything will be better than the porn industry,” Maxine cut in.

Lori tilted her head for a bit. “Not quite anything, but cabinet making is certainly better in the long run. I can still glue chairs when I’m all wrinkle-faced.”